Demi-God: Chapter One
by Fenyryn
Summary: N/A


Everything happens for a reason, even if it feels like it shouldn't have happened. For an example, one could be in a bank, feeling safe, with a child. Maybe the child is a baby; maybe five-years-old. The tellers could be upbeat, happy, or they could be tired, cranky for getting up so early. Whatever their mood, one doesn't expect anything bad to happen. They think they're safe from harm, safe from poisonous people and war. Nothing can break into the safe world they have made for themselves and the people they love.

But then someone comes and destroys the safe place in the hearts of many people. It's a bank robber, yelling at the teller he is at to hurry up and get the money in the bag. He's screaming at parents to keep the kids quiet, screaming at elderly people to stay silent. But the kids...they can't stay quiet. At least not the ones older than the babies and toddlers. He demands them to shut up, otherwise he'll "shoot Mommy and Daddy".

People look at each other, wondering why he's doing this. Maybe he's in debt and just wants to pay it off. Or maybe he can't afford to take care of a loved one or his whole family. It could be that he's mentally unstable. Even though they aren't good reasons, they're still reasons. Whatever the reason, they could have gone to someone and asked for help.

Someone decides to stick up to this man, demanding he seeks the help he so desperately needs. Before the person can finish, the robber shoots them, killing them instantly. He orphans the eleven-year-old girl who loved her mother. She gets sprayed with her mother's blood, frightening her, shattering her perfect world. The little girl would be me, Artemis Fletcher. My world was shattered. Mom had meant the world to me; my best friend.

The robber got what he deserved, of course. Twenty-five to life. But it didn't matter. Mom was gone. I couldn't live with my dad; he lived in Europe somewhere. So I stayed with my aunt, Chanel, and her daughter, Shenia.

Because they lived in a different town, I had to change schools. It didn't matter to me, though. My friends wouldn't miss me because I had no friends. I didn't make any at my new school, either. Well, Shenia was my friend, but that was only because, one, she was my favourite cousin and I was hers, and, two, her father died in a similar accident as my mother. Shenia was only three years younger than me.

The both of them had fiery red hair and blue eyes. Aunt Chanel's skin was slightly more tan than Shenia's. While Aunt Chanel had no freckles on the skin she showed, Shenia had plenty of them. It was hard to think we were related. They were both so ordinary.

School tortured me. I was the only one with a perfect complexion, stabbing green eyes and long – very long – black hair. I inherited my appearance from my grandmother, on my dad's side. Well, that's what my dad had always told me when he came to visit me. He only visited me once a year, on my birthday. But he never called, and never wrote. I was starting to think that maybe he wasn't even my real father. Though the years he visited me while I was at Aunt Chanel's, I never brought it up. We weren't close at all. If we had been...well...I would have spoken in the same style as him. And it was slightly weird.

The other kids at school got to see their parents every day or every weekend. They got rides home from grandparents or older siblings, or the rare few whose parents could come and get them after school. I had to sit on the stairs with Shenia while we waited for Aunt Chanel to come and get us. Sometimes the wait time was forty-five minutes, other times it would be two hours.

This particular day, however, we had to wait for three and a half. Aunt Chanel was in surgery because some idiot ran a red light. She didn't tell us how long it would take for her to get the pieces of car out of the idiots legs.

Some of the kids who loved to pick on me stayed behind because of a club meeting. During this time, I may have been seventeen, but no one ever taught me how to handle..."bullies". They didn't go anywhere near Shenia. I knew why they went after me and nobody else: because everybody else had parents who were there for them. It was terrible, and I felt bad about myself. I once cursed my dead mom out because of what she did to make me become an orphan. But I did regret it right away. She had been my mother. And I loved her. I loved her very much.

The kids who picked on me quickly walked by Shenia and I, quietly whispering to each other. I knew it had to be about my hair. No one else in the whole town had hair as long as I did. Either that or my name. Everyone had regular names: Sarah, Charlie, Hannah... But not me. What kind of name was Artemis, anyways? Sure, Mom had loved Greek mythology, but going as far as naming your daughter after the Goddess of the Hunt? And, yes, it was better than Aphrodite. She was going to make that my first name, but instead she made it my middle name. I never told anyone my middle name. _Ever._

Aunt Chanel stopped in front of the school, honking. Both Shenia and I ran toward her truck and climbed in. She looked tired and upset. She probably wasn't able to save the idiot. We ended up riding in complete silence. The first words to come out of Aunt Chanel's mouth at home were, "What do you want on the pizza?"

And then after Shenia and I told her – mushroom, extra cheese, pepperoni – the next conversation was at the table when the pizza arrived.

"How was school today?" Aunt Chanel asked.

I slowly picked off the pepperoni and ate it by itself. "Just like every other day. Getting picked on, gym class, lunch, math, and then Norse Mythology."

Shenia awkwardly ate her pizza while staring into space.

"What's been going on in your mind these years, Artemis?" Aunt Chanel asked.

I shrugged, mentioning that I just felt out of place being a town full of seemingly ordinary people with seemingly ordinary names with seemingly ordinary families. Being different was great and everything, but sometimes it just got to be way too much.

It didn't take me long to finish up and as soon as I did, I put my things in the sink and ran upstairs to my bedroom to do my math homework. No one could ever understand, besides Shenia, what I was going through.

***

The next day, Shenia stayed home since she was feeling ill, and Aunt Chanel stayed with her. That left me to take the bus to school, something I never did before. I ended up getting lost on the way, even though the town was pretty small, and was two hours late for school. It was the morning break when I arrived – probably one of the worst times to show up to school. But before the kids could even get to me, I was called into the principal's office, where Aunt Chanel was sitting.

The principal, Mrs. Timons, sat me down in the chair next to Aunt Chanel. They both got right to the point.

"You're always very studious about school, Artemis," the principal said, putting her index finger right on her desk. She always did that and it was weird. It was my first time being in the principal's office for being late. Any other time it would have to be because I was getting congratulated on something.

"Why didn't you show up on time this morning?" Aunt Chanel asked.

I folded my hands together, setting them on my lap. "I got lost using the bus to get to school. I thought I knew the way, but I've never been on the bus before. And, yes, I do know that it's a small town, but... I swear it was an accident and I swear I'll never do it again. I should have called you for help, Chanel, but I was panicking because I just wanted to get to school. And I'm sorry for not calling in and saying I was running very late, Mrs. Timons, but I-"

Mrs. Timons held up her hands. "I understand, Artemis. It was one mistake and you didn't know what to do. It's okay. I'm sorry for calling you away from Shenia, Ms. Connars."

"No problem at all," Aunt Chanel replied. "Do you think you can take the bus home or should I come pick you up, Artemis?"

I sighed. "Stay with Shenia. I'll find my own way home. Sorry for worrying you, Aunt Chanel."

"It's okay, dear. Have a good day and re-learn the things you already know in your Norse Mythology class."

I looked around, slightly freaked out. How did she know what I was going to be learning in that class that afternoon? I raised my eyebrow, biting my lip.

"I'm just kidding," Aunt Chanel said when she noticed my panicked expression.

"Aunt Chanel, you know I don't like it when you do that."

She smiled at me, giving me a kiss on the top of my head and walking out.

I hesitated to leave the office. I didn't want to show up outside or anywhere else during this break. Something would happen for sure. Those kids looked and sounded like they were planning something bad and I didn't want to give them an opportunity.

"Aren't you going to go and enjoy your break, Artemis?" Mrs. Timons asked, putting her blonde hair up in a loose ponytail. Her bangs framed her baby-doll face while her blue eyes stood out.

"I'd actually like to stay in here until the bell rings, if you don't mind," I replied.

She sat forward, inhaling sharply. Then she put her fingertips on the desk. "Is something going on?"

"Nothing," I lied. "It's just that, um..."

"Are you being bullied?"

I pulled my face again. "What? No."

"Because if you are, I could help."

"No, I'm not!"

Mrs. Timons stood, walking over to the other side of the desk and sitting on the edge of it. She looked deep into my eyes, not even making some kind of move that she was going to look away any time soon.

"You're covering it up quite good," she continued. "Your teachers tell me you're getting one hundred on each assignment. You must be killing yourself working this hard."

"Okay."

"Answer my question: Are you being bullied?"

I sighed. "Yeah, okay, I am. So what?"

"Do you know why?"

"Because I have no parents around, I have a weird name and my hair is longer than the other girls who live here."

"Tell me who it is; who is bullying you, I mean."

I clearly stated to her instantly that she couldn't give everyone in the school a detention or whatever people got for bullying. Sure, it bothered me, but I had to press my way through it. Those were just words they said to me. Yes, words hurt very much, but they couldn't physically hurt me.

The bell rang immediately after I told her, and I rushed off to my math class. I couldn't wait for my Norse Mythology class. It was the best class in my time table. Math was fine and everything, but it was slow. Also, algebra was not my best friend. Whenever would we have to use a Y or an X in math in our futures?

Ignoring the boy behind me poking my back with his freshly sharpened pencil, I focused on getting my work done. It felt like I was going to start bleeding if he didn't stop it soon, but no way was I going to ask to switch seats or go to the bathroom or anything. I didn't want help and I wasn't going to make a spectacle of myself.

But didn't getting poked with a sharpened pencil usually hurt someone? Sure, it was the first time anyone actually poked me with something sharp, but it didn't hurt. Why didn't it hurt? Then I thought about it. I had gotten hit – punched, slapped, whacked, you name it – in my life a lot of times, and none of the times did it even hurt. I had cried because I had gotten a little freaked out, but none of it had ever hurt me. That was weird.

The bell rang for last period, and I just ran out of the classroom like it was no one's business. We had seven minutes in between to get from one class to the other, so I hid out in one of the bathroom stalls of the upstairs girls bathroom to check if I was bleeding. I pulled back my sweater and looked in the little mirror that was at the back of the stall. My skin was slightly red. I had a feeling that if that boy had gotten any longer than he did, I would have been bleeding like a fountain.

I quickly walked to my Norse Mythology class. The teacher, a Norwegian immigrant – go figure – handed out text books to us about Norse gods. It was to help us with the project she assigned to us just a moment later. We were supposed to work in groups of two or three and do something – like a paper – on a Norse god that we picked.

Before anyone could do anything to me, I quickly walked up to the front of the classroom while Mrs. Aaberg wrote the assignment down on the black board. She was dressed in a traditional Norwegian bunad. The skirt part was a dark blue with golden stripes going down around it, vertically. She wore a puffy white shirt beneath a red vest laced with golden yarn. Her blonde hair was up in a tight bun atop of her head and out of her green eyes.

"Mrs. Aaberg?" I said, getting her attention.

"Yes, Artemis?" she replied, turning and setting the red chalk down on the metal rest of the board. Mrs. Aaberg spoke with a very strong Norwegian accent.

"I was wondering if I can work alone on this project. I really don't get along with anyone in this class – or, rather, in this school – and I know I can do this by myself."

I acted vulnerable most of the time, but I really thought of myself above everyone else. What was wrong with me? I had started feeling this way when I turned twelve-years-old. The only reason why I didn't act that way around Aunt Chanel and Shenia was because they were actually nice to me. Well, and the teachers, of course.

"Well, you do have a one hundred in this class, and you're at the top in _all _of your classes," Mrs. Aaberg thought aloud. "I don't see why not. In a few moments, I'll be asking everyone which god they would like to do it on. I'll be asking you first, so think long and hard about it."

"Thank you very much," I said with a little smile before walking back to my desk.

I opened the text book to the table of contents. The names in there were different, just like mine. Frigga; Odin; Thor; Sif; Loki. I flipped through the pages to Loki. "God of Mischief, huh?" I muttered.

"Okay, everyone!" Mrs. Aaberg said loudly so everyone would stop talking to each other. "I'll now ask which deity you would like to do this project on. Artemis?"

A few moments. Right, Mrs Aaberg. That was a minute and a half. I decided to answer, anyway. "Loki, I guess."

One of the more richer girls gasped and said to her partner, "That bitch; Loki was ours."

She flipped her brunette hair over her shoulder, pouting and poking her binder with her pen. Hey, it wasn't my fault that Mrs. Aaberg got to me first. Besides, Loki sounded interesting. I shrugged, shutting the text book and taking out my computer lab pass. When Mrs. Aaberg was done collecting everyone's choices, she sent me on my way to the computer lab. When arrived to my destination, the teacher there told me he had to run a few errands and that I had to be careful.

Just a moment after him leaving, the girl who called me the "B" word came in with her partner. Her partner was one of the rare nice one's in the school, who only backed up the bullies but never actually did the bullying. She was also her fraternal twin sister.

"Sarah," I muttered, setting my bag down on the chair of the computer I planned on using.

"Artemis," the mean twin scoffed. "I bet you think you're so big for stealing Carly's and my deity."

"He isn't _yours. _Relax; it's just a project. There will be plenty more."

Sarah turned red. "Stop acting like you're above me!"

"Then you stop acting like _you're _above _me._"

Carly shied away to a computer, ducking her head a little. She didn't want anything to do with that. Her blonde hair covered her face, so neither Sarah nor I could see her facial expression.

"Do you know why your mother 'sacrificed' herself to that bank robber that day when you were orphaned?" Sarah started to hit very, very low.

I bit my lip.

"Because she didn't love you. She never did. She just wanted to -"

Carly jolted up and pushed her sister into the wall. "Shut up, Sarah! _Shut up! _Our parents were killed in 'sacrifice', too, so you have no right to do this to Artemis! Sure, she's weird and different, but she doesn't deserve the torture we all give her, every day! Let her have Loki and shut up!"

Sarah stood up straight, shaking her head. "Well, we didn't know our real parents. She did. It's fun to hurt people, you know."

"Only to make you feel better about yourself," I sighed. "You know, I feel pretty bad about myself, but you don't see me picking on you or anyone else. And that comment you made about my mom..."

Oh, no. Tears were coming. I couldn't let her see me cry. I couldn't let anyone see me cry. I hadn't cried for a very long time; I wasn't going to start again. Picking up my bag and putting it on my shoulder, I ran out of the lab and to the stairwell. I completely decided to just forget last period and run home. Usually when I ran, nothing came out. And I planned on running all the way back to Aunt Chanel's house without stopping.

Down the street from her house, I finally managed to stop and catch my breath. Adjusting my bag and taking out the Norse gods text book and the house keys, I began to walk while reading. But when I got to the house, the door was already unlocked. It was unusual, but I ignored it. Aunt Chanel made that mistake every once and a while. I couldn't blame her, though. Her job was stressful.

"Aunt Chanel, Shenia, I'm home!" I shouted, walking into the kitchen.

I looked at the answering machine there were several new messages. That was even weirder. I hit PLAY. There were two messages about Shenia's homework, one about confirming cancelling one of Shenia's dancing classes and one about confirming my beginning of archery classes. The last one was from Mrs. Aaberg.

"Hello, this is Mrs. Aaberg. I teach Artemis' Norwegian Mythology class. She went to the computer lab to do research for her project, and never came back when I called down to her. If you could please talk to her and see if she's okay..."

A thumping sound from the living room door caught my attention. It made me jump. I grabbed the phone off the stand and slowly walked into the living room. When I opened the door and looked around a little, it was just Shenia's cat, an American Bobtail called Melon-Ball. I sighed with relief, walking over to the chair she jumped up onto.

"Don't scare me like that, Melon-Ball," I said, picking her up and stroking her black and white fur. She was a little wet. On top of that, she was meowing uncontrollably. "What's the matter? Did Shenia give you a bath aga-"

I stopped when I looked at my hand. It was red. Had I cut myself somehow? Or was Melon-Ball meowing that much because she got hurt? I turned my hand over to look at it. No. It couldn't have been me. I didn't even have a cut. Then I looked carefully at Melon-Ball's fur. She wasn't bleeding either.

I set her down, and she ran like a maniac out of the living room. She bounded up the stairs. I followed her quickly, trying to keep her within eyesight. What she led me to knocked the oxygen out of my lungs.

"Aunt Chanel?" I gasped, running over to the unconscious body. "Aunt Chanel?"

I shook her slightly. She wasn't moving or breathing. I couldn't remember a thing about CPR. But then I gasped and remembered Shenia. "Shenia!" I shouted, running into her room. She was unconscious, as well.

I quickly pulled out the phone from my pocket and called for 911. "Please, please, please... Yes! My aunt and my cousin aren't moving or breathing. No, I just got home from school. I can't remember how to. Okay, the address is..."

How long could they have been unconscious for? An hour? Forty-five minutes? Longer than that? Emergency arrived ten minutes later. My being in shock, I was in the bathroom, washing off the blood from Melon-Ball's fur. They knew where I was. Some of them even recognized me from when my mother got killed and they were the one's to take the bank robber away. I dried Melon-Ball off and cuddled with her while she was in the towel. The only lady on the emergency team came in, kneeling in front of me. I recognized her from the bank robber incident, as well.

"Artemis?" she said calmly, like she was talking to a little child. "I'm sorry, but..."

"What was it?" I asked. "Don't bother telling me they're dead; I know they are."

"Carbon monoxide poisoning..."

"Carbon monoxide poisoning? But Melon-Ball was covered with blood."

"Shenia fell and hit her head on the edge of her desk."

I looked down at Melon-Ball, who was struggling to get out of my cuddle. Letting her go, I stood. "Okay."

"Is there someone I can take you to?"

I shook my head.

"Your father, maybe?"

I shook my head again, only faster. "Actually I... I'm going to go for a walk or something to figure out what I'm going to do. Could you give me some privacy, please?"

She nodded and left, shutting the door behind her. I listened to her walk away before locking the door. I didn't even have to think about what I was going to do. The medicine cabinet was chock full of medicines and pills, so I searched through it. Aunt Chanel's pills from when she had strep throat would do good. So no one would hear the clinking of the pills in my pocket, I opened the window of the bathroom and climbed down the side of the house. Then I hid the bottle in the bushes so I could go in, grab my bag and run off.

When I walked in, I found Melon-Ball sitting next to my bag patiently. When I opened it to see if the text book was still in there, she climbed in. She wanted to go with me? There was no way I could run with her in my bag. Well, they knew I was going on a walk, so I guessed it would be okay if I walked away from the house. I sighed, zipping the bag up and carefully putting it over my head so it could rest on my shoulder. When I got back outside, I grabbed the bottle out of the bushes and put them in the bag. I could set her into the wild before doing what I was planning on doing.

I got to the park and then opened the bag. "Okay, Melon-Ball, this is where you get out."

She purred, rubbing the top of her head on my neck.

I took the bottle out and looked at it carefully. There was no turning back once I did this. Well, unless it failed and all I had to do was get my stomach pumped. Without thinking about it any longer, I opened the bottle and put it to my lips.


End file.
